


green grass

by Fleurwinks



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, M/M, why did i insert mayuaka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22906501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleurwinks/pseuds/Fleurwinks
Summary: The guy - Gryffindor robes, neat dark hair with a fringe - scoffs. “Don’t be a brat.”Haizaki learns that day that if you give Nijimura Shuuzou the middle finger, he will give you a black eye. Without his wand. With his fist.(WOOHOO IT'S A HOGWARTS AU for rare as heck nijihai HAHAHA)
Relationships: Haizaki Shougo/Nijimura Shuuzou
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	green grass

**Author's Note:**

> Hogwarts time for bball boys :)
> 
> I have had this sitting around for YEARS. Stumbled upon it in my WIPs. The end (well, the part before the end) of this story is very slightly unfinished, so if people read this I'll whip it into shape and post the other half as a second chapter (please comment!!!!!)
> 
> if u read my old fic roommates ((which in hindsight i would change a bit because u know how it is with writing from your past lol)) just know that this is JUST as cringe since i did start it way back when ....and am too lazy to revamp my younger teen....ideas....... 
> 
> Not bashing on my past self too hard though because i like this very well enough to post! 
> 
> \- italicised lyrics are from Stepdad's 'Will I ever dance again'. Feel free to ignore them, not pivotal lol

**First year**

Haizaki doesn’t end up in Ravenclaw like his brother. He’s not smart enough - in the ways that count, at least - to be sorted into that house, and it’s like the ticking of a checkbox when the Sorting Hat proves him right.

The squishy black heap confirms more doubts by speculating: ‘A bit of a mix here’, ‘No quality is especially _potent’_. It kept Haizaki up at night, wondering where he would fit in here.

And eventually Slytherin is what the hat calls, and Haizaki doesn’t think it sounds right.

But neither would any of the other three.

* * *

_As if the walk down the block was on a tightrope_

_Stop to watch the concrete decompose_

_I've been searching to find out where the grass grows_

The golden group seems to reveal itself in its foetus years.

Aomine Daiki makes the Gryffindor Quidditch team instantly; Haizaki hears half the school talking about the amazing way he rides a broom and…. okay. That’s great. Bravo. The term prodigy exists for a reason.

The rareness of his drafting is severely diluted by the fact that first years start cropping up in all the houses' teams that year. It’s some sort of fluke; a green haired Ravenclaw, a petite Slytherin who Haizaki unfortunately comes to know quite well, and a Hufflepuff boy who could probably pass for a girl at his stage in puberty. That Hufflepuff kid trails like a puppy after Aomine and his friend - a pretty Ravenclaw girl Aomine probably knew prior to Hogwarts (it’s uncommon to befriend cross house so instantaneously) and Haizaki can see it happening, an obnoxiously close-knit group sharing every leadership privilege from prefect to team captain in their seventh year.

“Can you practise with me tonight?” Kise asks happily. He is so earnest.

“Shh,” Aomine hisses, eyes flicking up to the professor’s desk. He hunches over his blank parchment and pretends he is busy working, not looking at Kise. He probably thinks he is being inconspicuous. “Stupid, we’re not allowed out after dark. They can’t know.”

“Oh…”

“Bring your broom, we’ll have to share it. Satsuki hasn’t been able to fix mine yet.”

“Oh! Okay,” whispers Kise. He manages to look like he is suppressing a smile whilst smiling. He is pale in his black robes, paler next to Aomine’s dark skin.

Aomine shoots him a grin before resuming his pretend preoccupation. “Just keep quiet.”

“Aye-aye!”

To himself, Haizaki says, “Oh, shut up.” There is no one sitting next to him.

The sheer virtue in their eyes and confidence in their strides around the halls is more than enough for Haizaki to sneer at. If only the universe’s most blinding concoction wasn’t collectively funneled into his year.

And still, somehow, there is this guy, one year above, whose golden image surpasses - perhaps, at this point in time - the lot of them. Haizaki has the displeasure of getting on his bad side first meeting.

Late for Defence Against the Dark Arts is an analogy for noun: ass-whooping, and Haizaki pushes through mobs of people as he jogs through the corridor **,** robes askew and hair equally wonky. He pries two people walking in front of him apart to overtake them. One of them shouts and grabs his arm. Haizaki pulls away. Can they not see he is LATE?

“Can you not see I am LATE,” Haizaki says under his breath. He shoves past.

“Oi,” calls one of the guys after him. “Watch out.”

Haizaki turns around, but doesn’t stop moving. The guy is already frowning. “Chill,” Haizaki tells him.

The guy - Gryffindor robes, neat dark hair with a fringe - scoffs. “Don’t be a brat.”

Haizaki learns that day that if you give Nijimura Shuuzou the middle finger, he will give you a black eye. Without his wand. With his _fist_.

A professor who probably saw the ordeal turns a bit of a blind eye, perhaps for that stupid reason adults like to call ‘character building’. Haizaki doesn’t care. He is not even ruffled by Nijimura. All he knows is that he hangs around with this Ravenclaw boy with a beauty spot under one eye. A mama’s boy and a pretty boy, Haizaki thinks. How perfect.

From then on, Haizaki faces the problem of being _aware_ of this guy, of his existence, and like the phenomenon of learning a new word and suddenly seeing it written everywhere, Haizaki hears about Nijimura constantly. He has the female teachers charmed, and it’s gag inducing overhearing him talking to them in the corridors after classes. They are either praising him or asking about how Quidditch training is going. And another equally vile third thing, most likely.

One time Haizaki is going down the moving staircase that is mostly empty, sans a few stray students, and McGonagall and Nijimura. They are probably talking about boring shit. Nijimura isn’t facing him and Haizaki decides he will kick his foot when he reaches him.

* * *

Aomine laughed at Haizaki when Nijimura moved out of the way and Haizaki ended up tripping over himself down the stairs.

“There are a lot of fuckwits at this school,” Haizaki says, lolling upside down on a stiff leather cushioned chair. It is deep green, like the rest of the common room. Akashi doesn’t look up from his parchment but Haizaki knows he is listening. Watching Akashi scratch the paper with more ink, he says, “What’s the deal with all the tryhards, huh?”

Akashi lifts an eyebrow - half-arsedly, in Haizaki’s opinion. Not his full potential, that’s for sure. “They’re probably an annoyance to you because you get on their nerves.”

No doubt Aomine thinks he is the biggest gift ever to grace the wizarding world. “You got into the team as a first year, Akashi. It can’t be _that_ astonishing.”

“Pardon, Shougo?”

“I know something that’s way astonishinger — astonishing _ner_ — more astonishing. You want to know what that is?” Akashi doesn’t say anything, but silence can speak a thousand words, or something like that, so Haizaki enlightens him free of charge. “How far up themselves people can be just because they have a scrap of unearned talent. Yeah."

Akashi shakes his head minutely, eyes glued to his work. “Do you have someone you’re referencing in particular, or."

Talent is effortless and undeserved which is annoying, but what could be annoyinger — annoyingenner — _more annoying_ , than the opposite: overflowing amounts of ambition for overachievement? The word tryhard is one Haizaki wouldn’t mind writing out over and over and over (unlike ‘I will stop to think about my words before I say them’), preferably with lots of ink to roughly splatter the word with blood-like droplets and offensive illustrations. Nijimura is an example of someone who almost definitely used to be painfully average but isn’t anymore because he is SUCH A TRYHARD.

“Well,” Haizaki says, “goodie two shoes charm doesn’t work on everyone. The Gryffindor team might be shit.” He thinks of Nijimura’s neat hair. “He probably _sucks_.”

* * *

Agile. He has complete control over the broom, over his form. He blocks a quick shot from Ravenclaw’s best chaser - their third blocked shot in a minute.

As a keeper, Nijimura is weighed down by protective gear but shows no hindrance in his movement. Somehow, he seems lighter than everyone else in the air.

Haizaki hears someone behind him in the stands say: "It’s hard to believe he’s a mudblood, isn’t it?"

Haizaki can’t look away.

**Second year**

_The wind is an insect with a blood lust_

_Stinging with grey sheets of a thick dust_

_Lord, I need to find someone I can trust_

Like a pattern, more elites patch up a quilt that year - an irritating blanket of athletic, loyal, achieving idiots. All in Haizaki’s year. There’s the glasses one. A sporty type who transferred from the States. Then his quiet friend. A girl from the Gryffindor Quidditch team who probably hits all the players more than she hugs them. A slowpoke new to the Ravenclaw team, almost too lazy to be in it, sits with the tribe in break. There are so freaking many of them it’s a task in itself choosing which one to HEX when they start squabbling with Haizaki. Aomine is usually it.

(“You should be prepared to be chosen if you’re going to act like you’re the chosen one,” Haizaki shouts dumbly at him when they are fighting outside. He thinks he sees a particle of appreciation for his attempt at a reference on Aomine’s face before the next spell hits it.)

They are a maddeningly _present_ group, like the starring members of some show who have to be in every scene. All these sporty nitpicks while Haizaiki more or less feels like a slug on the castle walls. It’s like a book Haizaki prophesied, but despises.

 _Are you going to play?_ his brother asks him. _Surely you want to - everyone wants to. It would be good for you, having something to work on._

I don’t know, Haizaki tells him. Leave me alone. You’re obsessed with making me join.

**Third year**

_Don't know where to find you_

_Don't know why this must be true_

In Haizaki's third year, when he's walking the long way to potions, he double takes at a couple leaning against a pillar.

It’s ironic, because he takes this detour to _avoid_ Nijimura.

Said stupid fourth year has a girl with her back against the sandstone. He is propping himself up with his forearm next to her head on the pillar. She giggles and swiftly kisses him on the cheek. He places his hand in her black wavy hair and says something that earns him another graceful laugh.

Nijimura's smiling in this way, a soft tug of the corner of his mouth.

Haizaki hurries on to potions before remembering he isn’t in a rush, but he still continues to hurry. His professor’s eyes widen comically when she realises he is on time.

That evening in the common room, Akashi is talking to fifth year Mayuzumi Chihiro, who is pretending he would rather be reading a book than conversing with the pureblood. They’ve been in this dance since Akashi made his way to the Slytherin table after the hat took all of half a second to crown him a member, and he had gravitated for some reason to the jaded third year.

“Akashi,” Haizaki says loudly upon entering. Akashi doesn’t even acknowledge him for a few moments, annoyed at having been interrupted, before drawling, “What is it, Shougo?”

“Will there be any spots on the team soon? Kasamatsu’s accident and all, he’ll be out for a while, yeah?”

If Akashi is surprised, it’s undecipherable from his apathy. He looks down at his very expensive, very beautiful black wrist watch with floating silver hands contrasting with the cloudy dark face of the timepiece: outside’s weather. “Well, perhaps - I should go and confirm that with Madam Pomfrey, actually. If I go now I can catch her before she retires for the night."

Ever efficient, Akashi’s red head leaves the room. Mayuzumi now has no choice but to dejectedly read in peace, and Haizaki presses down the urge to taunt him that playing hard to get can hit you back in the face. He doesn’t because in truth, the fifth year is very good at his game.

After a good twenty _Break it up'_ s and a good hundred _Seriously Haizaki?'_ s and six annoying _Thanks Nijimura senpai!'_ s, the golden group frolics away and Haizaki finds himself alone with Nijimura _senpai_.

“Honestly,” the parent in teenage form goes, “don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Do _you_?” says Haizaki. “Like, you’re always everywhere just waiting —”

“I see you picking fights with them far too often - I just see you too much in general, actually —"

Haizaki scoffs - in a really manly way. “No one’s making you stop and _chat_.”

“There’s this thing,” Nijimura says, “called behaviour. And I kind of have to interact with you to change it.”

Like a transfiguration project. This nerd — “Merlin, Aomine had his wand out before I even passed them!” From across the courtyard, Haizaki sees Kise look at them, slightly guilty.

“You’re saying they stirred you up? Why ever for, I wonder?” Nijimura’s dark hair has a sheen from the sun that is egging Haizaki on to set fire to it.

“They maimed me I swear —!”

“Okay I _get_ that they approached you —”

“They wanted to know if I’m playing the Slytherin-Ravenclaw match.”

“Oh.” Like a placated troll, Nijimura relaxes into his conversation-with-people-I-do-not-hate pose. “Didn’t know you enjoyed quidditch.”

“Come off it,” Haizaki says. “I know you saw me in the stands that time when Aomine fell off his broom and I cheered.”

“Yes,” Nijimura says dryly. “You’re a regular comic.”

“Shut up, just because _you_ don’t appreciate it.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” says the parent, already annoyed again. “And anyway, enjoying watching Quidditch isn’t the same as wanting to play. Plus, I thought you were there merely to make a spectacle of yourself. That you enjoy getting in heat with McGonagall, since it’s such a frequent occurrence."

“Gee you’re hilarious,” Haizaki says.

It looks like even Nijimura’s raised eyebrow is sighing. “Well,” he says, “why have you joined this year?”

Wouldn’t he like to know, Haizaki thinks evilly. Maybe because - well - hm. Hmm. Searching for an answer, his brain just _hmmmmm_ s.

Haizaki says, “Aomine falling could have caused some interest.”

Thoughtfully, as if a captain addressing his team after a game, Nijimura says, “Apart from the fall, we played well that match, actually.”

“Well,” Haizaki starts, “you weren’t shit.”

The muscle in Nijimura’s jaw twitches.

“Hey I was being nice get _off_!"

**Fourth year**

_Whenever I do it wrong it feels so right_

After one of the first breakfasts of his fourth year, Haizaki walks past Nijimura on his way from the great hall, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Nijimura look up at him.

Haizaki, ever mature and not one to back down from a fight, whips around and barks, “It’s been a week here and I haven’t even seen you _once_ , what could I have possibly done?”

Nijimura’s expression - it's almost a grimace.

“What?”

He vaguely gestures to Haizaki’s head.

Right, so. Yes, it’s different. He is sporting an undercut since his old shaggy style got overgrown, and while the fringe is satisfyingly flippy, the shortness covering the rest of his head is taking a lot of getting used to. It feels naked.

“I’ll have you know, three girls have told me they love it in the past four days,” Haizaki says menacingly. Not that he's keeping a tally. “Not that I'm keeping a tally!”

Nijimura just squints his eyes like he’s trying to solve a quadratic equation in his haircut which besides, he is too far way to see, hypothetically, what an IDIOT.

Haizaki's scalp feels even more exposed from the scrutiny and he speeds away ("Fuck off") before his ears heat up.

He passes Nijimura and Himuro on the way to supper that night, standing and chatting just outside the doors. The proximity is a welcome opportunity because Haizaki is a master of intimidation. Intimidating glare lever is pushed to one hundred percent. He hitches it back to eighty-five so it doesn't look like he cares too much, but that doesn't shake the intensity. He can stare someone down, alright.

— If Nijimura would look at him, that is. He glances up for a millisecond then looks away and Himuro quickly looks to see what he glanced at. Himuro cops Haziaki’s stare full blast, but appears more or less unaffected (Himuro must have seen some shit to be able to resist full throttle intimidation. Haizaki starts to respect him a little bit) and he starts nudging Nijimura in such a joshing way that Nijimura should start laughing soon, surely. But he doesn’t look up from the ground.

* * *

"What does this word say," Haizaki calls to Akashi from his bed. Akashi's curtains are drawn (he's probably writing in his diary or something equally 18th century) but he pops his wand out to cast a summoning charm with a sigh.

" _Accio_ _parchment_."

Akashi's assignment flips out of Haizaki's hand and floats over to the pale, outstretched hand. It is swallowed by gathered green cloth.

"Which word?"

"First word, long word - second paragraph."

A beat. "Extrospection. Couldn't you see that?"

"Your writing's too curly," Haizaki says tersely, trying not to lose his temper with his History of Magic lifeline. It is 10.30 at night and there may be some regret this paper was not started earlier.

"Is that all? I feel I'd be too optimistic in assuming you understand the word's meaning."

"Oh _Sei_ , how lovely of you to look out for me like that."

"Well, do you?"

" _NO_."

A muffled _fucking hell_ comes from Takao's drawn curtains.

Akashi doesn’t bother prolonging the process anymore. "Extrospection is rarely used as a term, but it reflects introspection, which is one's assessment of themselves to understand their own motivation and feelings. Extrospection deals with the observation, perception and interpretation of others’ behaviour to understand _their_ psyche, which of course we can never draw absolute conclusions about. We can only assume."

Haizaki examines his own psyche to find he is well tired. "Why're you talking about _that_ , it's a _history_ paper."

"It's an analytical essay, Shougo. You are supposed to speculate in depth -"

" _Okay_ , okay, should I mention it too?"

"If you wish."

"I really hate this," Haizaki says pitifully.

"Yes, but you'll finish," says Akashi. "Now, do you understand?"

"So you suggest," Haizaki begins, "that...we interpret... what others mean by what they do, but, uh - can't conclude - _things_ \- because, uh.... their actions might mean nothing or, something else from what we assume?

"Essentially," Akashi says, seemingly pleased. "At least your copying reaps some education."

"Stop," Haizaki grumbles, but with no heat. He is thinking about other things.

* * *

Playing for Slytherin is nothing short of thrilling.

Practising flying at home on his brother’s broom growing up provided Haizaki with a basis for Akashi’s inhumane training regimen. Despite McGonagall's inclination to pull strings, fourth year Akashi is not captain, but he might as well be official co-captain with the amount of input he is granted. Their actual captain just wants results, and Akashi delivers.

Haizaki feels mildly threatened by team spirit every once in awhile, but it happens less and less often. It isn't hard to band together against Hufflepuff for their next match, anyway.

Haizaki’s never sought out of practice. He’s won and lost against all teams this far into his career as a beater. And he’s good at it, he is. There is something about being so pivotal, though, so indispensable, that he cannot shake himself from wanting. Being directly opposed to _them_ , whoever they might be. He thinks Akashi, Slytherin's only seeker, was close to letting him, once, because during training he looked impressed when Haizaki showed how he’d improved over the holidays. But not too soon after, Haizaki had thrown out to the general populace of the common room: “Akashi’s a bit of a fucker, eh?” And someone bloody _told_ him and do they not know he has to share his sleeping quarters with that — that — that _psychopath_?

The day of the match, Haizaki dons his least ratty socks.

In front of the mirror, he pulls his hair back with his usual band.

In the change room, their captain approaches him. “Haizaki. You’re seeking.”

Akashi abruptly left for home three hours ago. Something about his father’s chain of robe shops. Or his mother’s health. Maybe both, and as an….acquaintance of Akashi, Haizaki does spare him a thought.

But this is what he’s been waiting for.

Without Akashi, losing to Gryffindor would make sense. Gryffindor is Nijimura’s keeping and Kagami’s chasing and Aomine’s dratted seeking. Losing to Ravenclaw could be passed as a one off, with their new phantom seeker. But Hufflepuff. Kise. Losing to that over-dramatic witch-magnet would melt his reputation and just….that scenario is best not thought about. Kise is, unfortunately, very good at Quidditch. After watching many games over time, Haizaki has deduced that Kise copies a lot of Aomine’s moves, in terms of overtaking the opposite seeker and faking, weaving and dropping approximately fifteen feet very suddenly. Aomine did teach him in the beginning, but the similarities that have braved or developed over almost four years give off idolisation more than instruction. Haizaki can copy, too. Mirroring an opponent while seeking is something he's never had the chance to do outside of theory. 'Outside of theory' begins in five minutes.

* * *

Six minutes in, Kise catches the snitch.

Applause hammers needles into Haizaki's ears.

Worse things have happened. A howler from his father. Flunking a potions assignment so badly he was banned from Hogsmeade temporarily. Accidentally walking in on Akashi making progress with Mayuzumi and suffering the consequences of being Akashi Seijuuro’s Mood Ruiner.

But it’s humiliating. No past comparisons reduce this boiling point of soreness. The emotion thrums under his skin in jerky, primary colours so unsettling that he stalks over and grabs Kise before he even thinks to do it. Once he’s got there, he’s not sure what he’s going to do. Maybe he wouldn’t have ended up doing anything bad, just shaken him by the shoulders and spat something in Kise's startled face. He’ll never know.

Something hits him in the temple, and the force of it pushes him to the ground. His head hits the field hard, the strange absence of pain that comes with concussion. And then black.

* * *

The hospital wing comes to with achy blinks. The high ceiling Haizaki's only stared up at twice before hazes, unstable, as he focuses. Immediately:

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Haizaki hisses at the coldness Nijimura is pressing against his cheek but finds his arm’s too tired to lift and bat it off.

It’s him.

Haizaki’s still in his quidditch robes. Why isn’t he changed? Haizaki’s head feels fine, and he assumes Madam Pomfrey has tended to it, but the cheek that was hit is stinging oddly.

Nijimura must see the question in his eyes - he excels at Divination, apparently, the nerd - because he says, “Daiki hexed you.”

Aomine. He was hexed. He lost to Kise. He lost. Haizaki clears his throat with a cough before speaking. His voice hasn’t been used in a while and there is a bit of a lump he has to swallow down, as well. “Of course he did.”

Nijimura keeps the compression firmly pressed to his skin. His eyes are focussed and his mouth purses a bit. “He’s a good kid.”

The lump in Haizaki’s throat returns, but it’s hotter. “You’re defending him.” 

“He’s protective," Nijimura says. "Which doesn’t make it excusable, but…he did something for his friend’s safety.”

“Right,” says Haizaki tightly, even though tensing his face like this hurts his cheek. “Because of course _I_ was going to endanger —"

“What he _thought_ would protect his friend, okay?” Nijimura corrects. “Regardless of you, Haizaki, the situation of someone scruffing Kise would always have made Aomine jump in. It wasn’t an assumption based on you personally.”

Except, it kind of was, Haizaki thinks.

“He’s protective,” Nijimura repeats. His hand is still pushing that mushy thing into his face.

Haizaki says, “And you are?”

“Helping,” Nijimura fills in. Neither of them say anything for a beat, and they are probably thinking the same thing, more or less. Some white noise tune of bemusement. “Akashi isn’t here at the moment, and he’s the friend who would be here, so —"

“Whoa,” says Haizaki, “I’m going to have to stop you at ‘friend’.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Literally fuck off and - stop putting that thing on me.” Haizaki’s frown is half covered by the cold pack. “Surely there’s a spell for it.”

Njimura makes an unimpressed sound. “There’s also common sense.”

Isn’t that something? Not taking a shortcut, due to some... strange, undoubtedly overachiever-esque reason. “Does tending to another student give you bonus credit or something?”

Nijimura breathes out pointedly. “No. This is just what my mum used to do for my bruises.”

Haizaki lets his frown wear down to neutral. It strikes him that they have never smiled at each other. “I forget sometimes that you’re…”. Some students who are callous still say mudblood, but they are few. It is hard to say.

Nijimura gives a light snort. “You can say it. It’s not even an insult.”

“Well,” Haizaki says. “You know ,” he says, because one reassurance isn’t enough to erase all the stigma he has grown up learning about. “I don’t know anyone else like that.”

“Sure you do,” Nijimura says. “A good quarter of your house is ‘like that’ no doubt. And what you were looking for, I believe, is 'muggle-born'."

Haizaki’s head must be catching up from banging it. Or maybe hanging around Hanamiya can result in overlooking politically correct terms. Muggle-borns. He _has_ met them then, he keeps saying things he can’t justify. In that case, he doesn’t know any others that he… likes? No, he doesn’t enjoy Nijimura’s company. Tolerates, then? Does Haizaki tolerate Nijimura? That sounds mildly chummy. Are they even certified acquaintances? Do you have to be on civil terms with acquaintances?

Surely you have to be acquaintances to help someone with their half self-inflicted bruising. Speaking of which:

“Okay,” Nijimura removes the compress and Haizaki’s cheek hits warm air with a stunned numbness. “Let’s see.”

Haizaki’s cheek throbs dully and then - Nijimura reaches his hand to his cheek and lightly lays his warm palm there.

“Yeah, swelling should go down by dinner.” Nijimura runs the pad of his thumb over his cheekbone. “It just looks bad.”

A howler from his father. Flunking a potions assignment. Accidentally walking in on Akashi making progress with Mayuzumi. Losing to Kise Ryouta in front of the whole school - worse things have happened. Collections of conversations and exhibitions that make him feel ashamed to be him. But the worst thing of all is the flip of his stomach when Nijimura touches his face with his hand. The ache in his pulse. The dip of his breathing.

**Fifth year**

_My feet stop tapping_

_I'm not sure how I'm still breathing now_

_And I feel like I must be leaving now_

When Haizaki is phasing between sleepy and mulling in bed, a slice of his head offers that feeling a type of way - any type of way - isn’t a problem. That feelings are the one thing you do not have a say in, and anyone to say otherwise probably endorses the synthetic tides of Amortentia. It takes him about four seconds to come to his senses.

This is indeed a problem. His head feels eaten by it - throughout the day, if he’s still enough, there is a quiet gnawing in the background he can zone into.

Feeling strange because Nijimura touched his face spurs him to avoid. Purer avoidance than whatever he was doing the last three years, which was steering away from getting scolded but somewhat enjoying the arguments.

It’s towards the second half of fifth year Haizaki’s luck runs out.

He tries to stay out of trouble. Just get caught less, really, since Nijimura is a prefect now. But Hanamiya Makoto, who has been growing in constancy for Haizaki, all boiling frog and whatnot, can be very persuasive in roping people into his endeavours. And his need for a cohort or companion seems to grow when his - almost one sided - nemesis, Gryffindor Kiyoshi Teppei, continues to win every argument Hanamiya starts with him and his friends. Their origin story remains unknown. However petty, Haizaki generally at least plays witness to Hanamiya's attempts at lowering Kiyoshi's quality of life, which, to be fair, appears unfairly high.

This is why Haizaki is standing in front of the entrance of the prefects' bathroom after dark with a certified awful stink bomb created by the one and only Hanamiya, who stands next to him.

("How do you know he'll be using that bathroom before the bomb wears off?" Haizaki asked. "Forecast," said Hanamiya. "It'll be raining during the match tomorrow - he'll wanna bathe there, heard him tell Hyuga it’s like the thing that _relaxes_ him and they'll probably lose tomorrow as well, the way Ravenclaw's been, so. A shitty day. He likes talking to Myrtle, can you fucking believe it?")

Hanamiya overheard the password from when a Slytherin prefect was trying to seduce a girl into taking a bath with him. It’s funny because the password is ‘Bath Fizzies’, which is the most phenomenal line of bath bombs ever made. Everyone knows this because all the girls at school went though a huge phase of collecting them. Haizaki _guesses_ a bath bomb that makes the water infested with tropical fish or swirly with nebulas is kind of appealing. Kind of.

“Bath fizzies,” Haizaki says, wondering how you could try talking sexy to someone and say 'fizzies'. Hanamiya pats the wrapped stink bomb, slaps his back and turns to scurry off: “If I don’t hear about this from at least three prefects, you never did it.”

Haizaki walks into the ( _huge_ ) bathroom. He tries not to be overwhelmed by the appeal of the bathing facilities. He tries not to let it motivate him to attain status just to use this chamber. He just needs to drop the bomb in some water and go.

“I wasn’t aware you were a prefect.”

Haizaki’s arm hair panics _shit, got caught_ and tries to bail by running away from his body. Unfortunately, all this results in is some prickly goosebumps.

Nijimura is lax in the tub (pool) with his arms spread along the edge, holding himself up .

Fuck.

Haizaki steers his eyes to the high ceiling, away from Nijimura’s chest. It’s painful craning his neck like that, but it’s worse staring. He doesn’t even want it in his peripheral vision. The mermaid in the window has no morals - she's going for it. He supposes that as a mermaid, and a female, she doesn’t have to worry about boners. Shamelessly staring at Nijimura in his…nakedness, holy fuck —

“So?" Nijimura presses. "I didn’t get the memo?” Shutupshutupshutupmnotlooking.

“I’m not, ” Haizaki says to the distant wall, “and you know it.”

“Well, I’ve hardly seen you all year. You could’ve done something to _flourish_ in McGonagall’s eyes.”

"Dickhead," Haizaki mutters. He's still holding the stink bomb in front of him. For now, though, getting out of this conversation is the primary goal.

"Your hair,” he hears Nijimura say. It needs no elaboration.

“Yeah, yeah,” mutters Haizaki. He runs his hand over the cornrows without thinking. “Laugh if you want to.”

“No. It’s dumb, though. Looked better before."

"Nice backhanded compliment."

"It looked good before," Nijimura says. Haizaki's neck gives up twisting away. He will have to brave the storm head on.

"Didn't know you thought that," Haizaki says, failing to execute the phrase as discomfort-free as he'd hoped.

"Well. I did." It sounds like an invitation to enter a conversation without hostility, and Haizaki is disconcerted enough as it is.

"Uh," says Haizaki.

Nijimura must summon his towel in that time or something - Haizaki doesn't know, he looked up at the ceiling again - because now he’s coming over with it wrapped around his hips.

Stood in front of him, Nijimura reaches out a hand and pulls up a flap of the tea towel covering the stink bomb. Haizaki lets him, because his fingers and forearm and bicep and shoulder and chest and so on are all wet and Haizaki has kind of frozen, it seems.

"I can't believe you hang around with him," says Nijimura. 'I mean I believe it, but. Why."

"You're too uptight, man," Haizaki says. Nijimura's wet hair is plastered to his head as well as sculpted into messes from flicking it after submerging.

"I'm really not," he replies, and looks at him.

"I have standards with people," he says at the same time Haizaki says, "Then let me bloody drop this already."

"Hey!" Haizaki argues, "Why do you view me like some - some standardless idiot?"

Nijimura stills, then tilts his head slightly.

"Well, you seem to," Haizaki mumbles, suddenly hyper aware of how what he's saying implies he's thought about Nijimura's point of view on some level, thought about Nijimura at all, revealing such being the opposite of his life's goal.

"No, I - I didn't mean it like that." Nijimura drags his hand through his hair. "I'm actually sorry if it, um, put you down."

Haizaki tries to place a disdainful look on his face to counteract the increased heart rate Nijimura's words cranked out of him, junior counsellor vibes and all.

"You don't think much of me though." Haizaki goes for sneering. The strength that comes through surprises him. Talking about this is sort of starting to hurt somewhere in Haizaki's stomach. 

"No, Haizaki -" fuck Nijimura's voice, fuck the way he says Haizaki's name, fuck Haizaki's inadequacy - "I've kind of been like you - like you are now - before."

Oh?

"Oh?" Haizaki says, undoubtedly the most open thing he has said this entire year.

"Yeah." Nijimura rubs the back of his neck, looks somewhere at Haizaki's feet. "When I was a kid, I remember how easily I'd get angry. Just flashes, I was pretty easygoing but..I could lash out and fight if I wanted. And I wanted to a lot sometimes."

Haizaki doesn't say anything.

"So I couldn't help but notice how you react to things. But of course there's more, you have...a lot of different ways you act. Maybe mismatched, maybe some not so true to yourself."

"I'm a big old mess, thanks," Haizaki says, not truly fighting. How could he when he feels that to be some prophetic mantra in his DNA. Nijimura half smiles at him.

"I think you're a pretty interesting guy, to put it out there."

Again, Haizaki has nothing to say.

Nijimura clears his throat. "Hanamiya doesn't seem to be going through any phase. He kind of _is_ just cruel."

"I'm not a Hanamiya in training."

“Yeah, I - I can see that every time we talk." A pause. Nijimura must be thinking the obvious: they haven't talked all year. "And..” Nijimura gets a focused, reservedly earnest look, his brow furrowed slightly and his eyes too intent. “I think you can do better. You _will_ find better."

They've been standing too close for Haizaki's comfort ever since Nijimura came to look under the tea towel, but now, Haizaki feels it amplified by ten. Nijimura stares so intently, so genuinely trying to make amends for imagined wrongdoings. Why is he so real in a way that makes Haizaki want to confess anything and everything that's ever hurt him all through his life? And why does it feel like Nijimura would listen?

Haizaki looks back. Nijimura’s mouth looks rosy and soft. Everything’s a bit damp, in the warm air and steam from the water. He can imagine what the clammy press of lips would feel like.

Nijimura glances down from his eyes to his mouth.

“I’m going,” Haizaki says, turning his body, stepping away.

Nijimura's blink is delayed, and Haizaki is already at the door when he says, “What?”

“‘m outta here. Tell anyone I was here and you’re dead.”

It is so, so feeble.

* * *

“I _couldn’t_ ,” Haizaki repeats exasperatedly. “He saw me as soon as I got in.”

Hanamiya huffs again. Outwardly, Haizaki is a cool collected column leaning against the stone wall of their common room. Inwardly, he feels a little like begging someone to obliviate him.

“Your feat will just have to wait another day, won’t it?” Hanamiya snatches the pouch out of his hands. He shakes his head. “Shoulda known he’d be there - it’s what, about eleven at night?”

Haizaki frowns slightly. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“What,” Hanamiya laughs lightly. “As if you haven’t heard the one thing that tarnishes the ponce’s reputation?”

Haizaki tries not to look miffed, even though he’s usually the one in the know and the one disclosing manipulatory snippets, but no matter. “No, I haven’t, say it already -”

“Kay, okay.” Hanamiya lifts his head by his chin like he always does when he says something he thinks is of value. “He fingered a girl there in the middle of the night - I reckon a few months ago - just brought her there and _bam_.” He gestures crudely with two fingers. “But if he was there alone jus’ then, maybe he got stood up.”

Haizaki’s vocabulary isn’t especially broad but he thinks: antithesis.

“Maybe,” he echoes. He sniffs and lifts his head by his chin. “Probably.” 

**Author's Note:**

> apologies for stereotypical sorting, kinda would have liked kise in snake house, as i think his personality is too often reduced into sweetness even tho in canon he's got two sides, kinda couldn't be bothered writing that though because exploring his character the way it deserves would have detracted from /this/ story :/
> 
> ALSO PARDON MY LACK OF ADHERENCE TO HOGWARTS RULES I HAVENT READ HP IN AGES


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